


A Helping Hand

by blessedbyhera



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batdad, F/F, International Fanworks Day 2018, descriptions of abuse by a survivor who's feeling pretty bad about herself, future harley/ivy, harley comes to jesus (or diana) because i'm a lesbian and i cant watch this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedbyhera/pseuds/blessedbyhera
Summary: Wonder Woman helps Harley Quinn into the light. Batman is also there.





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> tw: harley puts herself down a lot about her abuse but it isn't true and she's in for some healing and support.
> 
> also the only knowledge i have of the dcu is the wonder woman movie, that one superman comic where his ship landed in soviet russia, a decade of superman/batman fanfiction, and following mithen on tumblr. the ONLY research i did into dcu lore was how many children batman has but i didn't get a straight answer because no one was counting the robins but they WERE counting alternate universe kids, so i went with 8.

When Batman splashed down on the roof, grappling hook retracting with a muffled _thwip_ , he had been expecting Commissioner Gordon, or possibly Barbara. He hadn't, however, expected the shivering form leaning against the flood light, arms crossed and hair dripping forlornly.

In one swift motion, he released the hydraulic clasp of his cape and swept it around the shoulders of Harley Quinn, reclasping it and untucking the hood from underneath so it covered her head and about half her face. He was Batman; he thought of things like that.

It had also occurred to him that this was a trap and that he could be injured in any of a number of ways at this distance but there were some fights even Batman couldn't win, when they were against Bruce Wayne, Father Of Eight.

"Hiya, Batsy," she muttered, looking up at him. Her eye was blackened and the greasepaint was all but sliding off her face.

"Harleen," he answered, no inflection, nothing further.

She sighed. "I don't know where to start," she said, and her chin dropped back down to her chest. "He, uh. He hit me." She breathed in shakily. "Not even for the first time, dear god. Not anywhere close. But it was the first time I saw his eyes when he did it. I always thought he did it because I deserved it. That he did all the stuff he does because people deserve it. But I saw the look on his face, Bats, I'm so stupid. He does it because he enjoys it. Of course he does, how could I have thought otherwise?" Fresh tracks trailed through her face paint as she began to cry, ducking her face into her hands.

Batman exhaled, too quiet to be a sigh, and said, gravely, "You aren't stupid."

"How could you say that?" she demanded. "I bet even Boy Wonder saw that he was just using me! I'm a psychologist! And I fell for it anyway!"

"It's harder to notice from the inside," ground Batman. "You know that. He did it on purpose."

"The things I've done! The things he convinced me to do! Christ, I'm a monster!" She threw herself into the kevlar of his front and wept, and Batman, still suspicious but hoping despite himself, slowly wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "God, the things that would've happened to this goddamn city without you!"

"He took advantage of you. You were vulnerable, and he's deranged." He took a chance. "Help me take him down, Harleen. So he can't do this again."

She stepped back from him, shivering and skinny in her shorts and T-shirt. Crime may pay after all, but he's noticed that it doesn't seem to invest in season-appropriate clothing. Gotham was notorious for, among other things, its unusually cold and rainy autumns.

She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes was fierce. "Anything. That bastard's gonna be in a padded cell for the next billion years if I have my say."

"You will," Batman said. He held out his hand and gathered her up before aiming his grappling hook and taking her away.

-

The ride to the Batcave was… unusual.

He opened her door for her, less out of politeness and more because of the chip in his glove that unlocked the doors. She slid in, squeaking on the leather, and he got in and immediately switched on the heat.

Harleen sat perfectly still for a moment and then reached for the dial on the dashboard. With years of long practice under his utility belt, Batman flicked her hand away. She was undeterred, trying once more, only to be flicked again. She snorted and her hand shot out one more time, making contact with the dial and managing to turn it from the police scanner to a channel dedicated solely to smooth jazz. She giggled and yanked her hand away before he could try again.

Batman left it out of spite, and they glided through the wet streets of Gotham as the saxophone played on.

-

Batman was a master of many things, but talking was notably not one of them, especially regarding trauma and the emotions surrounding them. It's how he became the man he is today, spandex and all. So the first thing he says when they get to the Batcave is, "Do you want to talk to Wonder Woman." Again, not a question. Batman doesn't do "upward inflection".

"Why?" Harleen says, knowing perfectly well why.

"I'm not… good with emotions," he admits. Inside the Bludhaven Police Department, Dick Grayson snorts for absolutely no reason, and his partner, sitting at the desk across from his, gives him a funny look. "She processes feelings better."

She thought for a moment, looking away, and the teasing grin left her face. "Yeah. Yes, please."

"Okay."

He turned to his computer, typing rapidly, and the sound of a ringing phone reverberated through the cave.

"Batman? Hello!" Wonder Woman said as her face came into view at the Batcomputer (whose name had stuck, along with the rest, when Dick had first visited what had formerly been the Cave), wiping her face with a towel and plopping into her computer chair. She smiled. Harleen inhaled quickly. Even in ratty workout clothes, Wonder Woman was a vision.

Batman sat Harleen down in his chair, and Wonder Woman's head, magnified to the size of an old car, tilted questioningly at them both. Batman patted Harleen on the shoulder and said, "Talk to her." It didn't really matter who he was addressing. With that, he swept down the carved stairs to where he'd parked the Batmobile to tinker with it and flee from the incipient heart-to-heart.

-

"Hello, Harley Quinn," Wonder Woman said, like the voice of God Herself.

“H-hi. Um. Hi.” Harleen paused. “It’s--um. It’s actually Harleen, with an N.”

Wonder Woman smiled. “Then hello, Harleen.” Harleen felt her skin clear, her hair get healthier, and if she’d had crops they would have been flourishing. “Batman thinks we have something to discuss. Tell me, what is it?”

And Harleen, who had already been kind of kicking herself for unloading on Batman on top of a police station, thought that that in no way compared to the Biblical flood coming out of her mouth now.

“I left the Joker because I realized he didn’t love me at all, and he was just using me as a punching bag because I was letting him, and that none of the people we’ve been attacking actually deserved it, and that _I_ didn’t deserve it, or maybe I do, I don’t know, but I thought he was hitting me because I was doing something wrong and he was helping me but he wasn’t at _all_ a-and I feel absolutely awful because I graduated summa cum laude and I got my doctorate in psychology and I _worked at Arkham_ and I still let him take advantage of me and now I have _nothing_ and I had to go to _Batman_ for help and he could’ve handcuffed me to the roof and I wouldn’t have had anything to say ab-bout it b-because _I’m a monster!”_ And this is the point where she starts sobbing, _again_ , good God why can’t she keep it together? It was only luck and Batman’s endless reserve of dadly sympathy that kept her from being tossed headfirst into a cell.

When Harleen ducks her head to cover her face, Wonder Woman gets a look in her eye, like a mother bear or possibly the barrel of a gun. She purses her lips. She raises and lowers her eyebrow as she contemplates extreme violence. And then she sits straighter and practices smiling kindly for a moment because that is what’s needed right now. Violence can wait until later.

Harleen looks up directly into Wonder Woman’s gigantic blue eyes and says, “I don’t know what to _do._ ”

And Wonder Woman responds, with the best words she could have possibly chosen, “I do.”

Harleen believes her.

Harleen believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> did i think my first foray into writing fanfiction would come as a result of a really infuriating suicide squad edit i saw on instagram? no. am i going with it? sure! this is just what i have now, bc i really wanted in on international fanworks day, but i have a lot of thoughts about this topic.


End file.
